Everything that appears real,
Everything that you have been told,
Everything that you have come to believe,
Is all the fabrication of your mind.
* * * *
There is no path.
There is no dogma.
There is only the absolute,
And a universe of appearances,
Disguising the way home.
* * * *
There has ever been now, is ever now, will ever be now.
Never has there been any time other than right here now.
* * * *
When you are satiated of identity,
Weary of meaningless experiences,
When you would even die to be free,
You will do whatever needs to be done,
To spin no more on the web of suffering.
* * * *
When struggle and resistance end,
When surrender to what is, is complete,
You will be the awareness that is home to all.
* * * *
Love can only be total, unconditional.
Other uses of the word are of self-absorption:
Incomplete, limited, conditional, manipulative, painful.
* * * *
It is natural to want to know who you are,
But the thoughts of self, the attachment to persona,
The encasements of identity: labels, definitions, assumptions,
Are not the instruments that will truly get you home.
All concoctions, all speculations of mind,
Are only obstacles to the journey.
* * * *
Call it by whatever sound you will:
God, Allah, Brahman, Tao, Buddha, Krishna,
Christ, Great Spirit, Way, Absolute, Supreme, Totality,
Or any of the many other labels it is given throughout the world,
It is ever the same indivisible mystery, cloaked by the illusion of diversity.